


Embrace Me

by GhostLove



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Affection, Budding Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostLove/pseuds/GhostLove
Summary: Grell figures out just how touch-starved she is after falling into a state of boredom. A slight mishap then prompts her to pay a visit to a certain mortician. Thing is... their interactions have been rather rocky up to that point. Will she be successful in her endeavors for affection? Or has too much negativity occurred between the two reapers for that to happen?
Relationships: Grell Sutcliff/Undertaker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Embrace Me

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines everyone : ) 
> 
> I had a rather hard time with this work and it took entirely too long to complete. 
> 
> I'm happy I could get it out today at least. I'm not sure how happy I am with this one-shot in the end, but I know that chances are even if I'm not too keen on it... someone else surely will be. 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who reads this, please stay safe out there.

The sounds of a door clicking shut, heels on hard flooring, and a weight falling heavily onto a mattress filled Grell’s living space as she entered her residence for the night. She let out a low moan and hugged her pillow beneath her body, her face buried into the soft bedding. She was exhausted, but more than that - she was bored.

Turning her head to the side, Grell stared off into the darkness of her room. The past week had been incredibly draining; what was worse though, is that it had been so for no good reason. Indeed, there had not been anything strenuous requiring the reaper’s attention, nor had she put in more hours than usual. Instead, Grell had found herself suffering from under-stimulation each and every day within the dispatch. There had been absolutely nothing for her to do besides work, she _was_ on probation again after all.

Letting out a low groan, Grell turned her face back into the bedding - her glasses shifting and pressing into her face uncomfortably. The redhead was sure she was getting mascara on the lenses, yet she didn’t care to remove the offending spectacles. Instead, her attention honed in on the empty feeling in her chest.

Ah, there it was, the loneliness that inevitably always emerged from boredom.

Sighing after a few moments, Grell finally acquiesced; she couldn’t ignore her discomfort any longer. While the physical sensation of the frames digging in was only mildly bothersome, the emotional pain that was now mixing in with that feeling had provoked the woman into action. Silently, her gloved hand rose to her face – where she quickly pushed her glasses to rest atop her head, her hair pinned back beneath the frames.

Finally, some relief - except…

The feeling in her chest hadn’t abated at all.

Grell let out an irritated growl, trying to push past the unpleasantness that sat like a stone within her ribcage. Now even more frustrated than before, the Shinigami opted to slowly look around the darkened space - her vision bleary as she searched for a distraction. There was nothing, of course, and so Grell’s thoughts began drifting to all the places she preferred to avoid. Soon, Grell’s mind latched onto a realization she had been suppressing for some time. 

She hadn’t talked, like, _really_ talked with anyone in… forever! Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Grell felt her sharp teeth biting into her lower lip reflexively, her brows furrowing. That wasn’t the only issue, she soon realized. She also couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt any amount of exhilaration, or, really, anything else aside from boredom. When had she last felt… alive? Exuberant? Desirable?

The redhead released her lip and began biting her pillow instead, thinking back as far as she could while gnawing the headrest absentmindedly.

Well - most recently there had been a few breaks spent with William, as well as a brief visit with Sebastian… though could she really say she had interacted with either man in the end? William had hardly acknowledged her except to ask if she was behaving, and Sebastian was… his usual self. And then… and then there was-

There was….

A memory suddenly came flooding back, prompting a scene to play out vividly in Grell’s mind.

It was an impulsive move - her body pressing into Undertaker’s while the smell of vanilla and… something else, wafted up from his dark attire. She had made a plea to him then, the words slipping out from between her lips before she could even think about _wanting_ to stop herself.

Grell let out a mortified squeal as she buried her face into the bedding. Why had _that_ memory, of all things, come up so suddenly?!

She shut her eyes tightly and attempted to muffle her voice using the bed below her. As the redhead continued to cry out, her legs swung up into the air - her toes curling tightly within her shoes while a feeling of giddiness washed over her. Before she knew it - the corners of her mouth had pulled up into a smile, the expression lasting for a long moment before Grell even realized it was there.

Wait, what was she doing? What was she… feeling? Why had she recalled _that_ so suddenly? And… oh my. That moment with Undertaker had been so very nice, hadn’t it?

Grell halted herself, fighting back the thought.

No, no! He was an old ghoul that man – he… he was so very handsome though! Wasn’t he? Just, what was she thinking?! His actions weren’t nearly as attractive as his eyes. Oh but… she had… felt rather exhilarated back then, hadn’t she? Was that something she wanted again? Was she sure of that?

Grell silently continued deliberating with herself, her eyes absentmindedly wandering the crimson-coloured bedding before her. She was someone who always rushed into things, someone who was vibrant, unapologetic, and not shaken easily. She was not one to look back on her actions with shame or embarrassment, but that didn’t mean she reflected on everything she’d done fondly. She was confident! She always knew what she wanted. And she…

She…

_She had just smeared mascara_ _all over **everything**._

“Not again!” Grell cried out in dismay, quickly beginning to gather the sheets and pillowcase off her bed. She needed to wash the bedding immediately.

As she made her way hastily towards the nearest sink, one located close to the front of her residence, Grell found herself nearly faceplanting – the tip of her shoe catching on some sort of obstruction. It was then that the redhead realized not only had she not placed her glasses back on her nose, but she had also neglected to turn on any lights. She sighed annoyedly and brought the frames to rest in their usual position.

With her vision now somewhat clear, the woman soon located and flipped-on a nearby lamp, illuminating her surroundings. The lenses of her glasses were smeared and smudged with makeup; however, the redhead could ignore it for now. Grell flicked on a few more lights before she reached the sink and turned on the faucet – removing her gloves and rolling up her sleeves in preparation. She then grabbed some detergent and began treating the sudsy sheets beneath a stream of hot water, the sink’s stopper plugged securely into the drain as the basin began filling.

As Grell began scrubbing at the bedding, she soon felt her focus slip; specifically, the reaper began realizing how keyed-up she really was. She was going to have a hell of a time getting to sleep with her mind in its current state. Not only that, but she had work again in the morning… ugh, work. Every fibre of her being screamed at her not to go – that she couldn’t take another day of the tedious torture she was being subjected to. She needed to get the energy out, to see someone, to have a little fun… a little excitement! She needed-

She stopped herself suddenly.

What exactly was it that she was about to rush into? She... she was just thinking how foolhardy she’d been throwing herself into that man’s arms! That old… handsome man… who… hadn’t pushed her away?

Grell’s whole body froze up, the redhead beginning to gnaw on her bottom lip in thought.

He really hadn’t reacted like all the others, had he? Grell didn’t remember him tensing up, shoving her off, or even striking her. In fact, she remembered something like… the feeling of his hands on her sides? That… that had actually happened right? She wasn’t recalling the incident incorrectly?

Grell felt her face flush intensely while a serene warmth spread throughout her chest.

Then came the sound and sensation of nearly-scalding water overflowing onto both her and the floor.

Squealing, Grell stepped back on instinct – not really hurt, but more surprised. It took her a moment more before she realized she’d left the sink’s nozzle running. She reached down into the basin and pulled the stopper before hurriedly turning off the taps, alarm pulsing through her entire body. Letting out some small gasps, the woman felt the sensation slowly subside. It wasn’t as if she needed to breathe really, but old habits died hard.

Grell stood silently for some moments, the redhead collecting herself while the wet parts of her clothing quickly lost all heat. Her eyes slowly scanned the contents of the sink before she noticed that the stains had lifted off the bedding. Success!

However, now said linens were completely soaked… along with the front of her clothes.

Oh.

I was clear that Grell would need to hang-dry everything over the course of the night. Not only that, but there was no telling if the bedding would even be dry by morning; dispatch laundering services were closed at that hour, unfortunately.

Grell frowned deeply; that was, before inspiration struck her.

She had just created the perfect excuse.

The Shinigami grinned to herself suddenly and began wringing out the sheets, sopping up the water on the floor and sink with towels before gathering everything up into her arms. Now with the bundles of fabric tightly captured against her body, Grell swiftly moved to the bathroom and began hanging the sheets over her tub’s curtain rod; the towels by comparison were tossed unceremoniously off to the side where a laundry basket was waiting. Whether they actually made it in or not, Grell didn’t care. She had bigger fish to fry.

The woman quickly finished and began surveying her work, a broad smile adorning her face as she mischievously proclaimed:

“My, how silly of me, I suppose I’ll just have to wait until everything is dry before I can go to bed. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to go out and have some fun, now would it? I’m sure that dreary old mortician is still up - it would do him good to have a lady like myself for company. I’m sure he’s tired of having no one but himself to talk to...”

Grell hesitated as the irony of the last statement hit her, her mouth pressing into a hard line of self-admittance. Right now, she really wasn’t any better, was she? The woman brushed the thought aside before returning to the main area of her living space. Once there, she dried herself and changed into a clean shirt, vest, and pants – all of which were duplicates of her usual attire. The redhead then moved to the mirror for some finishing touches, pushing her glasses up once more and bringing her face close to the glass surface in front of her. There she fixed her makeup and hair, leaving the task of cleaning her lenses for last. Once she had finished doing everything, Grell stood back and examined her reflection in the mirror; she couldn’t help but smile at the sight before her.

She looked great, as always, and she felt ready to go. Her previous fatigue and boredom had all but disappeared as she chuckled and moved towards the door. Her mind was made up and everything felt correct; even if she was being hasty and inconsiderate, she didn’t particularly care in that moment. She locked up behind her and adjusted the madame’s red coat on her arms before she quickly exited the residence - beginning her speedy descent into the night. A cackle escaped the redhead’s lips as her lithe body moved easily through the air towards the shop.

Undertaker moved about the funeral parlour’s small kitchen with an energetic tune in his throat, humming to himself as he began placing bone-shaped cookies inside a small urn. Normally he would have been attempting to sleep at that hour… _attempting to_ being the key phrase. Instead, however, the ex-reaper had decided that some baking was in order; after all – he’d noticed that he was low on sweets just as he was preparing for bed. He couldn’t have that, now could he? What would his guests eat? And really… who was he to turn down such a perfect distraction?

Indeed, the late-night task was a much better alternative to him dwelling on the isolation and grief that always weighed heavy in his chest - the kind that strengthened right before sleep. Anything was better than attempting to battle with himself, and so Undertaker welcomed the mental diversion readily.

The man ceased his humming as he concentrated more properly on his cleaning. The apron over his undercoat was slightly dusted with flour, while his long silver hair remained neatly pulled into a high ponytail. Additionally, he had unbuttoned and rolled up his long sleeves – which now sat and slightly squeezed the flesh above his elbow. Although not his usual look, Undertaker was quite happy to be rid of the somewhat cumbersome large overcoat and hat that were part of his funeral attire.

Just as he’d finished wiping everything down, the mortician heard a knock at the shop door. Undertaker let his kitchen towel crumple abandoned on the counter before he fixed his sleeves and walked towards the front of the building. The man already felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he made his way over, the idea of a late-night visitor being quite exciting for him. Whether it was a detective, a desperate customer, or even a pack of thieves casing the shop – Undertaker would welcome them gladly. After all, even if the guest proved to be less than desirable, they would still allow him to avoid thinking about unpleasant things. What’s more, the ex-reaper desperately needed a break from the usual social isolation that plagued his existence.

Any sign of life was welcome at the funeral parlour.

The man heard the knocking repeat as he approached the door, prompting him to reassure the unknown visitor in a sweet tone:

“Yes, yes. I’m on my way, I’ll be right with you.”

Undertaker typically made a point of ensuring that his guests could waltz into the shop at any hour, the entrance remaining unlocked while the mortician hovered ever-near; however, this was not always the case. If he was out and about, needed privacy, or was doing something else that required solitude - whether that be for the sake of safety or confidentiality - he would employ the lock on his front door. Currently the shop was locked, the man having taken a bath just after supper while managing to forget that he had closed-off the entryway. Despite his unusual habits and behaviours, the man wasn’t keen on being walked-in-on for a multitude of reasons, nor did he want his relaxation interrupted by someone calling for him at the front. Hence, he had locked, and subsequently forgotten about, the front door. He was about to correct this predicament, however.

Finally reaching the handle and deactivating the lock, Undertaker put on his best grin as he swung the door open.

“Hello, hello, how can I-”

The man paused as his eyes fell on the redhead before him. He immediately recognized her, remembering their last encounter in the dispatch library as soon as he’d seen her Cheshire-like smile. He matched his expression to hers as he opened the door further, stating with amusement dripping from his words:

“My, my, this _is_ a pleasant surprise! To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?”

Grell’s chest filled with an intense warmth as soon as she saw the mortician standing in the doorway. He was even more handsome than she had remembered. What’s more, she noticed how his hair and skin gave off a nice scent, his slender form bowing slightly towards her while he spoke. Gods… she was already feeling overwhelmed.

Grounding herself, Grell vaguely recognized the smell of freshly-baked cookies while her eyes landed on the man’s apron. Had she caught him while he was in the middle of something? Grell’s mouth suddenly started watering; it appeared that she was hungry for a lot more than affection that night. It _had_ been a while since she’d last eaten after all…

Come now! Focus!

Grell gave her head a shake before coming back to earth. She was almost dizzy with eagerness; nevertheless, she held herself back and attempted to concentrate on formulating some sort of coherent reply. Eventually she found one, though it completely failed to address the older reaper’s question. In fact, the redhead had forgotten all about his inquiry as soon as her concentration had slipped.

“Hello again Undertaker, I had a feeling you’d be up. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

The woman’s words tumbled from her throat in a purr before she pushed in towards the entrance, prompting the Undertaker to step aside just so she could pass. The redhead was buzzing with giddiness, her mind scarcely recognizing her own behaviour as she practically forced her way inside the shop. Undertaker blinked in slight surprise at the other’s brazenness, an automatic apology rising up in his throat before he caught himself. He hadn’t even had a chance to invite Grell in yet; nonetheless, here she was walking past him as if he were a doorstop rather than a person. Undertaker silently thanked the fact that most of his expression was hidden by the soft fringes of hair in front of his eyes; it made maintaining his usual cheery façade much easier. The man willed another smile to his lips, though there was a degree of uncertainty to the action now.

“Ah no… not at all. I’d just finished up in fact - please do come in,” he hummed, remaining polite.

Undertaker closed the door behind him as Grell walked deeper into the shop, her eyes slowly scanning over everything from behind the lenses of her glasses. She had completely forgotten just how dingy the small funeral parlour was; it had certainly been a while since her last visit. Suddenly, the redhead felt her face contort in dismay - her gaze landing on a particularly dusty surface. Didn’t this man ever clean?

Grell sent a glance back towards the mortician, looking him over silently before deciding that a slight bit of teasing was in order. She couldn’t let Undertaker off the hook too easily now, could she? Certainly not! The state of the shop did not befit a lady such as herself! Not in the slightest! And surely that fact deserved some attention…

Throughout her musings, Grell blissfully ignored the fact that despite keeping the décor of her residence looking beautiful, her floor almost always resembled the aftermath of a tornado. Not to mention, almost every flat surface within her living space was cluttered with something. Even so, the redhead continued to smile to herself - turning her face away from the man and hiding her expression while she mused playfully:

“My… I see this place hasn’t changed a bit! It’s a shame you don’t have a woman around to help keep things tidy. Luckily, a beautiful young lady such as myself might just be persuaded into lending a hand!”

Grell struggled to hold back a giggle as she played herself up, all the while still refusing to face the ex-Shinigami fully. Undertaker stood silently in response, his brows raised and a bit of a grin playing across his lips as he recognized other’s act. He’d noticed the woman’s tone alongside the way she carried herself and had quickly understood that he was being teased.

Well, well, Miss. Grell was being quite the lively guest now, wasn’t she?

Undertaker wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, especially in regards to how the redhead had first acted upon arrival; nevertheless, he was enjoying this new chance at play immensely. Consequently, the man put any questions about Grell’s strange behaviour aside - and decided that, for now, he was simply happy to forget about the troublesome things that had been plaguing his mind all evening. Indeed, the mortician was elated to have such an interesting visitor, one who seemed particularly keen on having a little fun. He could never turn down an opportunity such as this!

What else would his pretty guest get up to tonight? He simply had to see for himself.

Undertaker quickly forgave the other’s previous show of brazenness and offered a gentle grin, retorting happily with a slight bit of laugher in his voice:

“Ah, my apologies. Not many young ladies come through here as you might expect – nor would it be their responsibility to maintain the state of my business… was there something you were looking for this particular evening? Miss… Sutcliffe, was it?”

Grell quickly turned and faced the Undertaker after he had spoken, dropping the bit completely. She felt a slight tightening in her chest as she processed his words.

He had remembered her name, but more importantly - he had addressed her in a way that many others failed to. She just… couldn’t believe this man! Why was he treating her so differently compared to all the others? Why had he allowed her into his arms, and into his shop so readily? What exactly did he think of her?

Grell pushed back a few long locks of hair as she formulated her response, keeping her tone steady and light once she had found her voice again.

“Ah… I didn’t think you’d remember my name - or that you recognized me for the vibrant woman I am.”

Grell offered the man a smirk as she slightly adjusted her glasses, her green eyes locked on him all the while. As soon as she’d reached the end of the gesture the redhead realized just how quickly she had given into flirtation – yet she didn’t care. Instead, she decided that doing so was in her best interest; she was aiming for the mortician’s heart after all!

Meanwhile, the Undertaker had been attentively mulling over Grell’s words. His question still hadn’t been answered, but now at least the redhead seemed to be giving him her full attention. The man smiled patiently, recognizing exactly what the other was getting at with her statement. With that recognition, however, also came the realization that Undertaker needed to be tactful in his response - and so he thought on his words carefully.

“Well, of course my dear. I make a point of remembering the names of all the interesting guests who grace my humble shop with their presence. What’s more, it’s hard to ignore someone when they’ve made themselves so perfectly clear. You called yourself a “young lady” just now, did you not? Therefore, it’s only appropriate that I address you as such.”

Following the man’s response, Grell felt an equal amount of relief and disappointment. The relief came with Undertaker’s quick grasp of her actual identity, the man talking to her courteously and seemingly without judgment - which was a pleasant change from the usual responses she received from others. Addressing someone properly was the bare minimum of respect one could show another, and so Grell was quite happy that it seemed she would be receiving _that_ at the very least tonight. Yet, she also felt a bit miffed that the man had only just caught on by noticing how she had spoken about herself. They had run into each other so many times before now, after all!

Well, actually, now that Grell thought about it, she supposed that during some of those instances she had been masquerading as a butler… Hell! Even after she’d gone back to her usual appearance, everyone around her had consistently failed to respect who she was - especially in front of the mortician! Not that such behaviour wasn’t completely typical, but…

The woman’s teeth pressed together tightly as she fell silent. Tension had taken hold of Grell completely as a wave of unpleasant memories began resurfacing. Undertaker watched the other’s reaction closely, feeling quite unsure as to if he had said something wrong – especially with how the redhead’s jaw was clenching. He decided quickly that it was best to check in on the younger reaper; and so, after moving in a bit closer the mortician inquired softly:

“Everything alright, Miss. Sutcliffe?”

The redhead jolted at the sound of the man’s voice, though she quickly offered him a reassuring smile. She had gotten completely lost in thought. Hurriedly, she looked to answer the other reaper and put his mind at ease.

“Ah! Why, yes. I’m terribly sorry… I promise you I’m just fine,” she replied, her voice even. Undertaker smiled gently towards Grell in response, glad that she seemed to be ok. He then came to the realization that he had captured the redhead’s attention once again, prompting him to retry his previous inquiry.

Grinning with a purposeful softness, he began coaxing the redhead carefully:

“Miss Sutcliffe, the reason for your visit tonight-”

“Grell”

The interruption caused Undertaker to pause.

“Call me Grell,” she urged, staring at the man before offering a flirtatious grin. Despite the fact that his face was mostly obscured, Undertaker felt as if the woman’s eyes had managed to lock directly onto his while she spoke – which sent a flutter through his stomach. He wasn’t used to such a sensation, let alone one involving someone so exuberant.

The mortician politely cleared his throat as he busied himself with removing the apron that was still draped around his neck. He had all but forgotten what he had been doing before the younger reaper’s arrival.

“Grell, surely you did not come to visit my shop without reason. To what exactly do I owe to the pleasure of your current company?” he continued.

Undertaker had remained still while asking his question; however, after a brief pause the man began moving to the back of the shop. While he was in the kitchen, the mortician untied his hair - letting the long silver locks fall naturally down his back before combing out the tresses with his fingers. Undertaker then placed the apron on its usual hook and grabbed the cookie urn he’d left on the counter. The Shinigami always made a point of trying to feed his guests.

Grell blinked in surprise at the man’s sudden disappearance, raising her voice so that the mortician could hear her even at the back:

“Well… um… I wanted to talk to you about something actually! I don’t know if you remember but-”

The redhead halted as the man re-emerged, lowering her voice again as she flushed slightly. The Undertaker smiled and held up the urn for her to see, offering in a kind voice:

“Sorry to interrupt – but I have some fresh cookies if you’re hungry. I can also brew us some tea should you so desire.”

Grell could hardly stop herself as she reached out and took one of the biscuits, her ravenous appetite now more powerful than when she’d first arrived. She wanted desperately to taste the treat that had made the shop smell so amazing. Thanking the man, Grell eagerly took a bite - her eyes soon widening at the wonderful flavour.

“This is really good!” she blurted, quickly biting down on the cookie again. Undertaker chuckled, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him as he watched her. He didn’t often receive praise around his baking. A gentle word of thanks escaped his lips before he giggled slightly and took a seat atop a nearby coffin. The mortician had only just realized how long they’d both been standing. Immediately upon getting settled, the man tilted his head and patted the spot next to him invitingly - silently calling the woman over.

Grell seemed to pause before finally taking up the offer, keeping Undertaker’s question in the back of her mind until she could answer him properly.

The younger Shinigami crossed over to the man, her body turning towards his as she sat. Once the redhead was settled, she hastily finished off the treat between her fingers. Popping the remainder of the biscuit into her mouth, Grell thoroughly enjoyed the last bite; she, however, also felt relieved once the cookie was gone – even if her appetite said otherwise. She always felt awkward when she had to talk with food in her hands, and so the absence of the distracting snack was a good thing in her books.

Undertaker kindly offered up the urn again as soon as he saw Grell finish her biscuit; he was soon dismissed by a polite wave of her hand, however. The woman didn’t want to speak with her mouth full, and so decided on gesturing her refusal instead. She had managed to stand firm on her conviction not to accept any more of the dizzyingly delicious food; however, there was something else of equal importance that had fallen to the wayside. That was…

Grell had completely forgotten what she was saying.

Indeed, the redhead sat silently after she had finished eating – sending the funeral parlour into a deafening silence. It seemed that despite her best efforts, something had stolen the woman’s attention away once more. Something… lovely.

That something was a sweet and floral smell, one that Grell recognized but couldn’t fully place. After pausing for a few moments, the crimson reaper realized that the fragrance was coming from Undertaker - the man now close enough that she could hardly escape his beautifully captivating scent. Instantly, Grell was transported back to their embrace in the dispatch library. Swallowing hard, the woman stared at the mortician while the heat in her chest swelled into a raging inferno. She wanted desperately to bury herself in his arms, to feel him pressed against her warmly while he and his scent enveloped her. She was delirious with need, becoming lost in it.

As Grell strayed further into a world of her own desires, the man across from her let out a slight giggle – intentionally interrupting the silence that hung heavy over the shop. He’d been patiently waiting for the other to continue, a cookie positioned to his lips thoughtfully. However, it soon became apparent that the redhead needed a gentle nudge in order to regain her focus. With this in mind, the elder reaper decided to take action; he had become rather anxious to finally hear Grell’s answer, after all.

Keeping his voice light, Undertaker prodded:

“Grell? You were saying?”

The woman’s green eyes soon refocused at the sound of her name, which prompted the mortician to smile in triumph. It, however, took Grell another moment before she could manage any sort of coherent response.

“O-Oh yes! Sorry. I was wondering… if um… you remembered something that happened a little while ago? Between us, I mean!”

Grell felt her sense of control slip. Her cheeks burned as she realized just how strangely she was acting. Why couldn’t she just spit it out? Why couldn’t she focus?! 

“Oh?” the man cocked his head curiously, silently encouraging the other to keep speaking. He could see that Grell was becoming more and more flustered, and so worked to convey a sense of patience to the younger reaper. While Undertaker waited for the redhead to continue, his mind gradually returned to what she’d been saying. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he had an inkling as to the incident Grell was referring to; he couldn’t be completely sure, however, until the other had said her piece. As such, the mortician remained quiet and attentive towards his special guest - a gentle grin in place all the while.

Grell, conversely, continued getting more and more angry with herself as the seconds ticked by. Feeling her cheeks fill with air, the redhead clenched her jaw and wound her fingers together tightly in her lap; she was desperately searching for the right words and failing. She couldn’t stand this! She -

She… really hoped the man would return her feelings, even if just a little. More importantly, she hoped she wouldn’t do something to ruin the chances of that happening.

Gods, she was nervous.

Looking off to the side, Grell forced her shoulders to loosen. She needed to push forward - and was tired of making the mortician wait. Exhaling slowly, Grell carefully detangled her fingers before willing herself to speak.

“Something – something at the library? I… I wanted to – to ask you…” she continued shakily.

Letting out the air she’d been holding in her lungs, Grell suppressed the heat trying to rise up through her body. She refused to back out now. Even if she was scared of rejection, Grell had to take a chance.

The redhead’s eyes flashed back to Undertaker; she knew she couldn’t allow herself to stall any longer. Facing the man with seriousness, Grell ventured cautiously:

“Do you remember… that time in the dispatch library? I-I’d pressed against your chest and… said something rather forward?”

Undertaker paused at the other’s words. It took him a moment before he placed his remaining biscuit next to the otherwise abandoned urn. His hunch had been right. However, some part of him had denied the possibility of Grell even remembering the incident. After all, she’d seemed rather occupied with other individuals that were more… conventional than him.

Heat and a small amount of color rose covertly over Undertaker’s ashen cheeks, the embrace replaying in his mind. He’d rather enjoyed the contact… maybe Grell had as well? Surely, that was why she’d brought it up? Maybe…

Or maybe not.

Maybe she’d regretted everything and was going to set the record straight… maybe that was why she was so nervous.

The man forced a deep breath; he needed to be calm, especially for Grell’s sake. After all, it seemed as if the redhead had been struggling to gather up her courage until now. Despite himself, the mortician couldn’t help but feel anxious. He swallowed visibly, pushing the feeling aside for now. He wanted the woman to be able to speak her mind. Flashing the Grell a smile, Undertaker’s voice dripped with acceptance as he replied:

“I do indeed. What about it?”

Grell felt her teeth clamp on her lower lip in a rather unfortunate automatic response. She could taste the blood already. She released her bite hurriedly before she glanced down, gathering her nerve again as she continued:

“Well, see – I… um…”

A different question suddenly popped into the younger reaper’s mind, prompting her mouth to move faster than its filter could work:

“How did that make you feel? Did I… maybe… make you uncomfortable?”

The shop fell into silence once more - its atmosphere filling with a mix of anxiety and contemplation. The mortician had just been given something very important to answer, and unfortunately… his feelings weren’t quite so straightforward.

Why so? Well, because he had remembered something significant that had completely slipped the other’s mind.

What’s more, the man had honestly been a little stunned by the question. He didn’t often talk about his emotions, especially not truthfully. Well… it wasn’t like many had ever bothered to ask.

Crossing his legs and grasping his chin in thought, Undertaker let out a low and thoughtful hum - attempting to signal that he was processing the inquiry. Grell felt a lump form in her throat, the heat running throughout her body now turning into more of a cold sweat. The realization hadn’t entirely hit her until that moment, but… it was entirely possible that the man had only tolerated her actions back then. What’s more, that meant she had forced unwanted contact on the mortician – and then followed it up with an incredibly uncomfortable statement.

What the hell had she done?!

The more Grell thought about it, the sicker she felt. The way she had grabbed Undertaker and forced him to show her his face was terrible. The man had been hiding his features for a reason after all, and she had just steamrolled through those boundaries on impulse.

Grell bit the inside of her cheek, a wave of awfulness engulfing her as the potential gravity of the situation became apparent. Was the man across from her just putting up with her presence? Did she make him hate her? She couldn’t blame anyone but herself if that was the case…

And then, an important memory came flooding back – the same one Undertaker had begun considering while Grell failed to recall it at all.

Her hands were around his throat. And… Oh gods. She had stripped him down and shoved him into a salt pot. She hadn’t really been paying attention when she buried the man up to his neck in the white granules – nor was he completely nude. Still, she had…

Her mouth went dry.

As her thoughts continued to spiral, Grell noticed a churning in her stomach. Anxiety was building up inside her, making her feel as if she might vomit.

She had done something bad. Very bad.

Even though the woman had also been quite sweet to the mortician after the incident, that didn’t excuse her actions to any extent. Had the man been been trying to make _her_ feel better this whole time by ignoring his own feelings?! Grell bit her cheek harder, noticing the stiffness in her body alongside the fact that the elder still hadn’t spoken. She silently prayed that he would say something soon, the twisting in her gut now migrating up into her chest. She held back the rising nausea and continued her attempts to maintain some semblance of composure.

As the redhead struggled against herself, Undertaker similarly began rushing to churn everything over in his mind. Despite everything, he immensely disliked the way the woman’s face grew more and more distressed with each elapsing moment; however, there was currently a lot for him to consider. The man aimed to be quick and careful in his response, while also maintaining a sense of clarity and honesty with his answer. He wanted to diffuse the situation no matter his true feelings around everything that had happened. This was especially so as the mortician noticed Grell’s biting habit. He didn’t want the reaper hurt herself; however, the man might have already been too late.

Indeed, Grell’s pink lips were now tinged with red and clearly irritated from her previous abuse. Occasionally, the woman’s tongue darted out to run over the inflamed area – drawing the mortician’s attention back to it repeatedly. The older reaper found the colour contrast to be quite lovely, if not also terribly destructive. He wondered what it would be like if he…

No. Stop. Focus.

Undertaker forced himself to return to his thoughts. It appeared he wasn’t a stranger to getting lost in desire either.

The specific question at hand was: how did he feel about the contact? Although he already knew his feelings towards Grell and her embrace, the situation that had preceded the incident was a different story. Generally, the man found even the most negative exchanges between him and Grell to be fun and interesting in hindsight; however, he knew he couldn’t just ignore the alarm and discomfort that had arisen within those moments.

The man scratched at his cheek in slight irritation; surely, he was overthinking this? Well… maybe not. Maybe he wasn’t giving the problem as much credence as it deserved.

Undertaker took hold of his ever-present braid, running his fingers slowly down the length of it in thought. Something else that begged his consideration was the fact that Grell appeared to be genuinely sorry, especially as she fretted. Such a thing was no small feat in the mortician’s eyes, especially as it was rare for him to observe true remorse coming from anyone - let alone from her. Indeed, the man had noticed that the redhead seemed to focus more on the consequences of her indiscretions than the misbehaviour itself. Surely with that in mind he could just ignore everything bad from before, couldn’t he? She seemed sorry enough already…

He wanted to, but he knew he still hadn’t really considered the harm she’d done properly.

The Undertaker held back a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. He knew how he felt already, but was he right to feel it? Was he just going to hurt himself in the end?

On the day in question the mortician had brushed off the woman’s actions as inconsequential - especially due to the amount of personal information he’d let slip in front of the Earl. As a result, he hadn’t cared so much when she’d seen his face… although the sudden reveal still wasn’t something he’d expected. The ex-reaper also hadn’t been a fan of the general rough treatment he’d received, nor of the blatant disregard for his personal dignity and comfort. Even though the man was happy to put all that aside, he didn’t feel right denying or playing-off what had happened.

Undertaker frowned, continuing to sort through his thoughts as his eyes opened and fixated on the redhead once more. He paid particular attention to her slender throat, noticing that she seemed to be having a hard time swallowing.

He was just torturing her at this point, wasn’t he?

The mortician took in a slow breath, determined to make a final decision. He had been strongarmed, stripped down, assaulted in his own shop, and insulted by the redhead quite readily. None of that was up for debate.

However -

However, he wasn’t perfect either. He had done some rather awful things to her and to others in his life. Not only that, but Grell had shown him genuine affection, penance, and kindness after all was said and done – things which he had not seen expressed towards him genuinely in a long time. These actions did not excuse any of the others of course, but…

Undertaker let out the air he had been holding onto silently. He knew what he wanted. The mortician couldn’t deny how happy he’d been to see Grell at his door, nor how welcome of a guest she’d been all evening. He remembered the sweetness and eager company she had bestowed upon him after the incident; the ex-reaper craved more of that. Even if he’d noticed Grell’s tendency to quickly fall for, dislike, and fall out of love with those that caught her eye, the man wanted to try for something more with her. She had earned his forgiveness already, now all that was left was for the Undertaker to tell her so.

The mortician permitted his hand to lower into his lap, his legs uncrossing slowly. He’d readied his response.

Grell’s eyes snapped to Undertaker as soon as she’d noticed his movements. The redhead instantly tensed, though she tried her best to hide it. She was no closer to relaxing than she’d been earlier that evening. Filling her chest with air, Grell braced herself as she waited for the mortician to speak. She felt paralyzed.

Undertaker sent the redhead a gentle smile, attempting to reassure her. He knew he had only good news to give, however he also intended to be open about all of his feelings – even those that were less than pleasant.

“Well, the hug was rather nice actually. I quite enjoyed it,” the mortician began honestly, unable to hold back a slight giggle from punctuating his words at the end.

Grell felt the air rush out of her. A sense of profound relief quickly engulfed the woman, though she soon realized that the Undertaker wasn’t done talking. She went still again, showing her attentiveness as she waited for the rest.

“But…” the ex-Shinigami continued; his expression devoid of humour:

“I could have done without the rough treatment, the insults, and the invasion of privacy. Not to mention the blatant boundary-crossing.”

Grell felt acid rise in her throat. She had really screwed up, that was an undeniable fact at this point. Swallowing hard, the redhead attempted to take in another breath - bringing air into her body slowly and evenly. She couldn’t calm down, but she refused to stop trying.

Because she knew she had to accept Undertaker’s decision with grace.

There was no going back now - and with everything Grell had done she knew that she owed the mortician her understanding at the very least. The woman had to be willing to tolerate the consequences of her actions, even if that meant never seeing the elder Shinigami again.

“I’m sorry,” Grell stated, speaking up suddenly. The redhead didn’t expect an apology to change anything, yet she couldn’t stop herself from saying it. Oftentimes she found it difficult to admit fault like that; this time, however, the words had fallen from her lips without any hint of restraint. She knew regret was owed, and she meant what she said with every fibre of her being.

The redhead let out her breath in a slow and steady stream, her eyes locking on the elder Shinigami in search of a reaction. It seemed the mortician was much more important to Grell than she’d first realized. Indeed, the woman’s visit that night had been on impulse – yet still she remained. Something deeper was at play here, Grell was sure of that.

Undertaker blinked in surprise. He hadn’t really expected the apology, even as he’d watched the other become more and more disquieted. Nevertheless, the mortician valued the gesture – knowing how hard all of this was on Grell. The man sent a slight grin to the other while his voice took on a sympathetic tone:

“Thank you, Grell. I accept your apology.”

The Undertaker then took on a brief pause, noticing quickly how Grell’s looks had softened. Indeed, the woman had been staggered by his acceptance – so much so that she could hardly hide her relief.

“Really?” Grell questioned timidly.

The Undertaker nodded, feeling a bit of alleviation himself at the redhead’s reaction. He offered her a gentle smirk before continuing:

“Of course. I know you’re being sincere – just like on the day we embraced. I haven’t forgotten how sweet you were after we’d returned to the shop that evening. Still, you apologizing like this means a lot to me. So… thank you. That must have been hard for you to say.”

Presenting another earnest grin, the mortician felt warmth rise within his chest as Grell’s eyes took on a vibrant shimmer. He couldn’t tell for sure, but it almost seemed as if the redhead was holding back tears. Despite everything Undertaker had said so far, he still had more he needed to get off his chest. As such, the elder took a moment to prepare himself - gathering his words and stating with sincerity:

“Just as well, I haven’t been exhibiting good behaviour myself, nor have I shown you proper kindness when it was due. I insulted you when you first entered my shop that day - and I owe you an apology for that. I’m very sorry for what I said, Grell. It wasn’t proper of me to talk ill of a young woman like that. You are truly very stunning, and I should have been overjoyed when you arrived to me back then… I’m certainly glad that you’re here now.”

Undertaker paused to watch the woman’s expression, unsure as to if he had conveyed himself properly. Reassurance soon came in the form of Grell breaking into a broad and beautiful smile, her eyes now clearly filled with tears. Undertaker couldn’t help but match the redhead’s grin – being glad that his honesty had reached her despite how unsure he’d felt.

Indeed, Grell had felt increasingly relieved the more the man spoke – the sensation being closely followed by a profound sense of gratitude and affection. The redhead had almost forgotten what had set her off on that day, so to have Undertaker remember and apologize in such a heartfelt manner meant a great deal to her. 

Not to mention, she was quite flattered by the compliment.

When all was said and done, there was no question that Grell was an indisputably impulsive person; however, that didn’t mean everything she did was without reason. Hearing someone acknowledge her thoughts and feelings like that made the redhead feel somewhat… understood. It seemed Undertaker knew her a bit better than she’d first thought.

That had been something she’d wanted, right? To be understood by someone else?

Grell’s chest tightened.

A few more moments of silence passed between the two before Undertaker decided to speak up again. He wasn’t sure if Grell had fully accepted his apology, and so wished to confirm the other’s feelings before they continued their evening together. Additionally, there was something else the mortician was dying to know. That being… if Grell wished to strengthen their relationship going forward. Indeed, Undertaker wanted to make all his feelings known that night, including the hopes he held for their future. He was sure he wanted to see more of Grell going forward; consequently, the man ventured on in a gentle tone:

“Feel free to say no, but, if you’d be willing to forgive me - then maybe we can put everything behind us and move towards something better… together? Of course, I want to respect your feelings on the matter, so… what do you think? Can you forgive me, and, would you maybe like to start seeing more of one another?”

The ex-reaper smiled kindly once he’d finished speaking, hiding the hint of nervousness tugging at his core. Undertaker worried that maybe he’d simply done too much to push the other away, that Grell would not want anything to do with him from then on. No matter what the redhead decided, the mortician would, of course, accept her verdict completely - however, something at the back of Undertaker’s mind told him that he was worrying over nothing.

It wasn’t long before such a vague notion was confirmed - the mortician watching as Grell’s face lit up again. The silver-haired male felt a sense of warmth manifesting deep within his chest at the sight, a mix of relief and adoration washing over him. Undertaker could hardly believe just how much affection he had for the beauty before him; when had he started feeling this way and why hadn’t he noticed until now? In the end, did it matter really? He had something better to focus on.

Now then… would Grell accept his offer? The funeral director was excited to find out.

While Undertaker poured over everything, Grell began dealing with her own racing thoughts. She had felt electricity shoot throughout her whole body as soon as she’d heard the mortician’s tender words. She could hardly contain her grin.

He… he wanted to continue seeing her! To “move towards something better together” – what did that mean exactly? Did he maybe… feel the same way she did?

Hope filled her chest.

The redhead attempted futilely to collect herself as she quickly nodded, indicating her immediate acceptance without any hint of reservation.

“Y-Yes! I would love to... actually. Th-Thank you… for apologizing – and for the offer! I… yes, yes to both,” she stuttered, earning a bright smile from Undertaker as he laughed quietly.

Despite her best efforts to stay calm, Grell felt a blush swiftly spread across her cheeks; she had devolved completely into giddiness – and that fact brought her pause.

Taking note of the emotions she was currently experiencing, Grell realized her wish that evening had been partially granted. She’d wanted this, right? She felt… alive! Finally! Yet… despite herself, the redhead could hardly bring herself to enjoy the wonderful feelings blooming within her chest. Instead, she felt as if she’d become an utter mess – losing herself completely underneath the Undertaker’s hidden gaze.

Turning her face to the side, Grell allowed a covert smile to spread across her lips while playing with a long section of hair. It was rare that the woman felt this bashful. She allowed herself a moment to parse through her feelings before she softly spoke out:

“I… can’t tell you how much your words mean to me, Undertaker. So again, thank you. I’m… afraid that I’m having a rather difficult time making myself clear at the moment. I hope you’ll forgive me if I seem a little odd.”

The Undertaker chuckled, still elated with Grell’s eager acceptance - though her words left him feeling slightly concerned. Gently leaning over in an effort to see the redhead’s expression, the mortician felt a sense of curiosity rise up within him. Just what was going on exactly?

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that. It’s… quite alright,” the man stated reassuringly. 

Grell took some deep breaths before she was able to face the man again, though she soon felt a sweeping bashfulness wash over her again. The sight of Undertaker leaning in towards her was almost too much for the woman to bear, her face turning completely red in response to the other’s proximity. Grell began shrinking inwards – trying to make herself small before the imposing male. She could hardly restrain herself as a squeak of embarrassment escaped her.

“A-Ah… Sorry I…” she trailed off, pressing her hands to her ever-reddening face.

Undertaker watched the redhead in stunned silence, his head slightly cocked to the side. He’d finally come to recognize the other’s emotions, but was quite surprised the crimson reaper felt that way towards him. The mortician wasn’t used to receiving reactions like that from anyone, let alone a young lady like Grell. It was rather flattering, if he was being honest…

In fact, he could hardly hide his grin.

Suddenly, the man recalled the conversation around his own feelings from earlier that night. The manner in which Grell had asked about his thoughts seemed rather abrupt upon reflection, almost as if the question had come without warning. Following that line of thought, the mortician supposed it was entirely possible that the woman hadn’t yet asked what was truly on her mind.

That seemed to be the case, didn’t it?

The more Undertaker meditated on the possibility, the more likely it seemed – especially when taking into account how the crimson reaper’s behaviour had escalated. It was almost as if the query Grell had posed served as a mere precursor to what she’d really wanted to know, leaving the exact reason for her visit yet unsaid. The silver reaper couldn’t be absolutely sure of this hunch of course... at least, not until he asked.

Offering a tender smile, the man quickly decided to move forward with such a line of questioning. Keeping his voice soft, the man ventured while teasing slightly:

“Ah, m’dear… you seem rather flustered. It’s got me wondering… was that question you had for me earlier all you’d wanted to ask me tonight?”

Grell’s eyes widened with the man’s directness. Her whole body was at attention now, her hands lowering slightly. Weakly, she managed to croak out:

“I… no”

Two conflicting sets of feelings rose up inside the redhead at once. While she could hardly hold herself back from revealing her intense desires towards the man before her, Grell also found herself frozen with fear. In fact, she could hardly bring herself to speak - the terror sitting in her throat like a rock. Wasn’t her request rather strange? Wasn’t it rather demanding? Wouldn’t it be foolish of her to expect him to say yes?

Grell’s shoulders tensed up as her hands balled into tight, empty fists. She knew she needed to speak up - to ignore the anxiety and push herself forwards. She had already come so far… she just couldn’t back out now!

The redhead could barely keep herself still as she attempted to force out the words that refused to leave her lips.

“Th-That wasn’t the only thing! I… I…!”

Tears of frustration welled up in Grell’s eyes, her gaze locking onto Undertaker as she closed her fingers even tighter. She was stumbling horribly, tripping herself up with fear as the thought of rejection consumed her.

“I… I want…”

The mortician, meanwhile, had noticed Grell’s struggles and began worrying right alongside her. Surely, he couldn’t just sit back and let this continue – not while the redhead was becoming more and more overwhelmed. No, he had to help somehow…! He-

He…

Before he could even think about what he was doing, the elder reaper’s body began moving on its own. Reaching across to Grell gently, Undertaker lightly grasped her chin between his fingers - directing her attention back towards him. Halting in place, the mortician quickly realized just how careless he was being. Was this too much? Had he just crossed a boundary?

Undertaker looked to Grell, noticing that her expression was completely frozen in surprise as he continued touching her. Maybe he _had_ gone too far. Slowly withdrawing his hand, the silver reaper offered the redhead an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Take your time,” the mortician chided, hoping silently that he hadn’t made the woman uncomfortable. Grell stared as the ex-Shinigami’s posture took on a tension of its own, her lips moving before she could stop herself.

“Wait!”

Undertaker looked to the redhead in surprise. Maybe he hadn’t crossed a line after all? No, even if that was the case, he still hadn’t asked before he’d touched her – which they had already established as a no-go. The man pressed his teeth together tightly. He wanted to do better!

It was just that… well… spontaneous physical contact was such an ingrained, and admittedly, bad habit of his. Because of that, the reaper had completely neglected to think about what he was doing before he’d reached out to grasp the redhead. Situations like this required him to be more mindful than that! Undertaker closed his hands tightly, allowing his nails to press somewhat painfully against himself. 

Grell wasn’t the only one who could be impulsive, it seemed.

Bringing his hand up to run through his tresses stressfully, Undertaker found himself completely at a loss. What was he to do now? What could he possibly do to help this-

The man froze, his fingers still tangled in his locks. Had he been keeping himself hidden this whole time?

Slowly, Undertaker took on the realization that he had failed to do the one thing that would allow him to convey full honesty towards Grell - that even while he’d been opening up over the course of the night, he’d still been obscuring part of himself from the redhead. Feeling frustration welling up yet again, the man pushed back a handful of silver tresses from his face – all the while recalling how the redhead had reacted upon first seeing his eyes. Although he was still mad at himself, Undertaker hoped that now there was one less communication barrier between them… and that he could face Grell more properly going forward.

Grell, in the meantime, had fallen silent again whilst watching the silver fox. It had only taken Undertaker seconds to come to his decision despite how long the ordeal probably felt to him. The redhead’s mind froze as she failed to process exactly what she was seeing. Gradually, the mortician had sat back and brought his hands to fold below his chin – half of his face now completely exposed. Taking a breath, the man seemed to grasp some sense of calm while one green orb peered out at the woman from under long silver lashes.

He looked stunning, almost to an unreal degree.

Grell swallowed, feeling as if her mouth had gone completely dry. Heat collected in her face, coloring it a rather lovely hue of scarlet as she stared. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was in having this man show her something so splendid about himself. She could hardly stand it.

As Grell took the time to process everything, Undertaker focused on noting her response. He was happy the reception to his appearance was as positive as last time, if not more. However, that hadn’t been his goal. Bracing himself, the man launched into another candid speech, stating softly:

“Sorry, dear. Are you quite alright? I apologize for my indiscretion. I hope I didn’t cause you any discomfort…”

The redhead blinked, having almost forgotten what had just transpired; that was, until the lingering sensation on her skin recaptured her focus. Undertaker’s hands had been rather warm, hadn’t they? And his skin was surprisingly soft during the touch...

Grell really wanted -

The redhead mentally slapped herself. She still hadn’t said it, had she?! Well... there was something else she had to get out of the way first.

“O-Oh, no. You didn’t… make me uncomfortable,” Grell stated in reassurance, her mind still slightly unfocused as she remained entranced by the Undertaker. She could hardly begin to gather her thoughts again before the man broke into a relaxed smile. Grell could see relief and adoration in every inch of his face, all of which was unquestionably genuine as his eyes gently shone. She could hardly keep herself from embracing him yet again, even despite her anxiety.

Watching Grell with a slight bit of amusement. Undertaker couldn’t help but feel a little happy at the level of infatuation Grell had for him. As the seconds passed, the man’s mind slowly refocused until he recalled the issue still at hand. They’d failed to address the reason for Grell’s visit again, hadn’t they? Even though she’d seemed so close to saying it…

Offering another soft grin, the man hoped to get through to the redhead and finally put her at ease. He wanted Grell to be able to speak freely about her desires.

“I’m glad… Ah, actually - you were about to tell me what it is you wanted, weren’t you? Please, continue” Undertaker hummed, gently bringing the conversation back to where it had been.

Grell froze, instantly returning to the mixed state of fear and want from before. Clenching her teeth, the woman fought back the paralysis that threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn’t do this any longer! She wanted… she wanted…!

“I-I want you to hold me!” she finally blurted - her eyes locked on the other’s as her thoughts successfully broke through the barrier of hesitation. She’d said it; it was out there now. She was elated! And… scared beyond belief.

There was a moment of silence before the redhead took on a mortified expression, her hands covering her mouth tensely. This was a mistake.

“I… I mean… I-”

Grell was cut off as the older Shinigami suddenly, and without hesitation, pulled her against his chest with a calm smile.

“How’s this?” Undertaker asked quietly, his cheek pressing to the top of Grell’s head as he held her close. The mortician couldn’t stop himself from eagerly fulfilling the woman’s request, especially not when it matched his own wants so precisely. Immediately, the man noticed Grell’s fragrance as it wafted up to greet him, the heat of her body seeping into his own slowly. Already, Undertaker felt as if he could never get enough of that feeling. 

Meanwhile, the younger reaper felt as if everything had stopped - the heat that had rampaged throughout her body all evening soon melting into a sense of fulfillment. A somewhat pitiful sound escaped Grell’s throat as she pressed deeper into Undertaker’s chest, the woman unable to hold back her voice in that moment. Her arms slid eagerly around the silver reaper’s waist, where she pulled him tighter against her body. This resulted in a slight grunt from the mortician; he hadn’t expected the sudden grip around his midsection.

There was a pause as Undertaker adjusted to the sensation, his instincts soon taking over as he returned to a state of bliss. Slowly, the mortician began smoothing his hand up and down Grell’s back, following the natural curvature of her spine as he nuzzled affectionately into the woman’s soft locks.

The younger Shinigami silently took in the gentle displays of affection, cherishing every touch deep within her heart. It felt as if she hadn’t been lovingly held in centuries… which might have been completely accurate for all Grell knew.

The woman froze at the thought, her mind unwillingly locking onto the painful sentiment as she pressed further against Undertaker. She didn’t want to think about why such a simple moment was so overwhelming for her, yet she couldn’t push the unwanted realization aside. Biting her lip, the woman soon found herself fighting back tears while she trembled noticeably. She couldn’t believe how good it felt being truly wanted and adored after so long.

Undertaker quickly took notice of the other’s tremors, though he remained respectfully silent on the matter. He knew that Grell was close to crying, and had his suspicions as to why. He’d seen hints of the ugliness she’d come to expect when they were at the dispatch, and was sure that the woman’s true situation was much more complex than what he’d witnessed. What else could explain how much she craved being held? Just… held?

The mortician quickly decided it wasn’t the time to prod, and instead let the close contact go on uninterrupted. Grell could tell him everything if she wanted to later, for now – she had asked to be held.

As the shared contact continued, the redhead in question attempted to remain as still as she possibly could - swallowing back the sobs that occasionally wracked her body. Minutes passed before the younger of the two finally lifted her head, peering up at the silver Shinigami who mindfully allowed her the space she needed to back away. Grell’s face was flushed and her glasses askew as she stared at the mortician, prompting a gentle laugh from the man before he reached down and fixed the red frames on her nose.

“How are you feeling?” Undertaker asked, his hand moving to carefully brush the woman’s cheek. There, he stroked her smooth skin with the backs of his fingers, being mindful of his long nails while he did so. Grell closed her eyes in response and pressed needfully into the other’s touch, prompting the man above her to bite his lip against the warm fluttering that seized his chest.

“Really good. Better than I ever thought possible,” she breathed, being perfectly honest as she opened her eyes again. Her tears were completely visible now.

“I can’t tell you how much this means to me. How badly I wanted this - no, how much I _needed_ this tonight.”

Undertaker allowed a soft grin to dominate his features, his chest swelling with emotion. He’d needed her too that night - there was no question in his mind about it. The man carefully assisted Grell in getting re-situated atop the coffin, his hand coming up to smooth her hair back affectionately while he hummed:

“I’m happy I could give you what you needed… and I’m thankful that you came to visit me this evening. Truth be told, I often get terribly lonely. Today was no exception. Your being here has meant so much to me – even more than I can say. So, I want you to remember that you are always welcome here, that you can stay as long as you wish… and that I’ll hold you for as long as you want. All you need to do is ask. Okay?”

Grell smiled as she met the Undertaker’s gaze, only managing to hold her expression for a moment before she gave in to sobs. The woman tried desperately to calm herself, the corners of her mouth pulled sharply downward as she wept. Her body shook with the other’s words, she’d become completely overwhelmed by his kindness. Barely keeping herself together, Grell’s body was wracked with her cries - which eventually morphed into jarring hiccups.

A few more moments passed before the crimson reaper felt Undertaker gently place his hand on her head, making her flinch. Her brain took some seconds to realize that the man was petting her, rather than hitting her. She quickly relaxed.

Undertaker silently frowned, biting his inner cheek at the reaction. He wanted to undo all that had caused it, to take Grell’s pain and fear away for good; for now, though, this was all he could offer the redhead. Taking a breath, the man calmed himself and lightly began to ruffle the woman’s vibrant tresses. His voice was soft but audible as he soothed:

“There, there. Good girl. You’ve gone through a lot, haven’t you?”

At those words Grell completely lost it, letting out long and cathartic wails as the funeral director continued to pet her. Before long, Undertaker gathered the redhead into his arms again - letting her cry into his shoulder as she gripped onto him tightly.

He was barely holding himself back from crying alongside her.

Slowly but surely the shop returned to its usual quiet, with Undertaker cradling Grell’s head against him. She let out a few more hiccups and sniffs before she slowly started to pull herself off the mortician, prompting him to loosen his grip as he met her eyes.

While gazing at one another, Undertaker quickly noticed the long dark streaks cascading down Grell’s pale face; her mascara had run with her tears. The man sightly smiled before he took hold of the woman’s glasses, pulling them off gently. Letting them hang around her neck while being secured by the beaded chain she always wore - Undertaker allowed the frames to go forgotten for a moment. The redhead took on a look of surprise and slight panic, clearly being reliant on the spectacles to see.

“Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, alarmed. 

The man brought his face close to Grell’s, letting her see his expression to some extent as he remained warm and relaxed. Immediately, the younger Shinigami seemed to calm a bit, recognizing that the Undertaker wasn’t being mischievous or malicious in that moment. Nevertheless, her cheeks quickly tinted with heat and colour. She hadn’t been expecting the new proximity.

“It’s alright, just hold still,” the mortician instructed softly, earning a slight nod from Grell as she closed her eyes on reflex. The man smirked to himself and began gently running his thumbs over the redhead’s cheeks, wiping away the black smudges carefully. As he worked, Undertaker couldn’t help but notice how soft and beautiful the younger Shinigami was. Even after everything that had happened that night, Grell still looked stunning – her long dark lashes casting shadows over her cheeks while her pink lips remained slightly parted. Before he knew it, the mortician had moved his face in even closer to the other’s.

Grell had quickly relaxed as soon as she’d felt the man’s touches, recognizing what he was doing immediately. She was silently grateful for his actions, even if she looked like a total train-wreck in front of him. Despite knowing what Undertaker was attempting, the redhead’s mind soon began to wander. She kept her eyes pressed shut as the man’s face remained incredibly close to hers. Gradually, Grell began thinking more and more about the way he was steadying her face, his hold firm but not painful. Before she knew it, the woman couldn’t stop herself from feeling completely restless - like the other was withholding even more welcome contact.

Something like… a kiss?

Grell pushed the thought aside, assuming that she was making things up in her head.

Despite such a ruling, the more Grell tried to force out the intimate thoughts entering her brain, the more she noticed about the ex-reaper. For example: she could feel warm puffs of air on her face while Undertaker worked, his firm yet gentle hands moving over her skin. She could also feel a few fringes of his long hair tickling her. Actually… was he getting closer?

All of a sudden, Grell couldn’t get the idea of them kissing out of her mind - her lithe form tensing more and more until suddenly she felt the man pull away.

Disappointment.

“There you are,” Undertaker gently mused, secretly feeling as if he had somehow broken a silent but powerful spell. Indeed, simply moving away from the redhead had left him feeling… exhausted.

The man carefully replaced Grell’s glasses on her face, though he soon noticed something alarming. While he had been wiping away the mascara, he’d vaguely noticed the younger reaper’s skin turning redder and redder. Currently Grell was the reddest he had seen her yet, which left him slightly concerned. While Undertaker had felt something growing between them during the careful touch-up, he couldn’t be sure that the other was feeling the same way as him. Did he somehow cause some negative feelings to form between them instead? Slowly and carefully, Undertaker asked:

“M’dear, you’re all red. Are you feeling quite alright?”

Grell finally opened her eyes and stared at the man in front of her, her dark lashes framing her green irises perfectly. Despite the redhead’s attempts to loosen up, her body remained tense with eagerness. Her gaze remained locked on the Undertaker’s as the man let a bit of his curiosity slip; he was looking to Grell as if what she had to say was the most important thing in the world. The younger Shinigami suddenly couldn’t help herself any longer as she reached out to the elder, her arms wrapping around his neck. Bringing her face close to his, Grell’s lips tingled as she lightly brushed her nose against the Undertaker’s. Slowly, the woman let out her breath.

The mortician froze with the sudden movement, his eyes widening on reflex. Heat rose up though his body and spread over his usually-pallid cheeks as he reflexively grabbed the others waist to steady her. He felt almost like a stunned deer as Grell hovered near him, his own sense of anticipation brewing.

“Ah, sorry… I’m a little excited,” The redhead purred, meeting the Undertaker’s widened gaze. She took notice of how the man’s pale cheeks were visibly tinted pink for the first time since she’d known him, his hands gripping her securely. She rather liked this.

The red reaper soon snapped back to reality when she noticed how the man had tensed; her arms still draped around his stiffened shoulders. Forcing space between them, Grell’s cheeks were practically on fire.

“Oh! I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking… I-”

Grell was suddenly pulled towards Undertaker again, his lips clashing against hers with need. The kiss was insistent, yet gentle, with the mortician moving his hands down to Grell’s hips. The woman could feel his long nails pressing into her slightly, but not painfully, as he held her in place.

The two parted after a moment, their breaths mixing as they remained close. Both reapers were flushed, their lithe chests heaving while they remained entangled.

“You needn’t apologize. I couldn’t hold back either,” Undertaker hummed reassuringly, his smile quickly returning. Despite his outer calmness, the man had become completely elated over the kiss – his eyes gradually betraying some of that joy as they softened visibly. It had been a while since he’d experienced anything that passionate.

Grell let out short and eager breaths, though she didn’t necessarily need the oxygen. Instead, her body was riddled with excitement, the woman barely able to contain herself. Slowly, her breathing steadied as she brought her focus back to the Undertaker, who continued to support her diligently. As Grell met the man’s eyes once more, she immediately caught sight of the happiness and adoration he held for her; there was nowhere for her to hide her reddened face now. The redhead squeaked slightly out of embarrassment and quickly broke their shared gaze. In response, the man simply grinned and ever-so-slightly pulled her back against his body.

“Now, now, don’t hide,” Undertaker gently teased, not letting the woman escape.

Grell swallowed hard, her mind lingering on the man’s words. Hide? Why was she hiding? He was one to talk, wasn’t he?

She looked to Undertaker again, properly this time. Even though the mortician was known for concealing much about himself, nothing about him was obscured or seemed forced in that moment. Instead Grell could see sincerity in every inch of his expression – including his gorgeous eyes.

Grell reached out gently and smoothed the rest of the man’s bangs back from of his face, taking in the beautiful sight as she pressed her forehead to his.

“I won’t, if you won’t,” she breathed, finally finding her words again. The mortician blinked in surprise, soon catching her meaning as he responded through a soft giggle:

“Understood.”

A moment of comfortable silenced passed between the two before the redhead pulled back carefully.

“Hey, would it be selfish of me… if I asked for a bit more tonight?” she asked quietly, a bit of sheepishness to her voice.

The elder Shinigami tilted his head questioningly before he smiled, his arms wrapping around the redhead more as he squeezed her.

“I think there are very few things in this world that I could ever refuse you. Ask away,” he purred.

Grell smiled softly as she tilted her face upwards, pressing a kiss to the man’s brow with care.

“Thank you…so you wouldn’t mind if I slept with you?”

Undertaker blinked, clearly surprised before he ventured cautiously:

“Do you mean, you wish to spend the night? Or…”

The redhead offered a lopsided smile, pure exhaustion showing on her face as she seemingly could barely manage a bashful reaction. She then brought her hands up to rub at her eyes.

“I’m just… really tired. I imagine it’s morning by now and frankly the crying didn’t help matters much. My eyes are starting to ache,” she complained, a slight whine escaping her throat.

The Undertaker seemed to take a moment to process everything before he let out a slight giggle, pulling Grell in for a gentle hug.

“Of course, m’dear. I’ll always have a space for you. Can you wait while I prepare the coffin?”

Grell let out a small sound of dismay before the elder chuckled and asked pointedly:

“Didn’t you enjoy the comfort of the coffin you were shipped to me in last time? I promise you’ll hardly even notice it isn’t a bed. Not only that - you’ll have one of the most restful nights of your existence!”

Grell frowned deeply, her sharp teeth catching the dim light of the shop as she mumbled:

“I don’t really recall… and I very much doubt that, but I’ll trust you.”

Undertaker smiled as he rose from his seat, taking the redhead into his arms easily. Grell let out a weak sound of surprise before she relaxed and curled into the ex-reaper’s body, feeling completely at ease. On any other occasion, she would have been practically beside herself with the implications of being carried “bridal style” by someone she liked. Instead, the crimson reaper was simply contented - which in and of itself was significant for her.

As Undertaker took Grell to “bed” he made sure to pull her body flush against his, letting his warmth seep into her as they embraced. Just like that, the man felt the weight of his own exhaustion bearing down on him; he could barely keep his eyes open. The mortician fought the urge to nod off and let Grell get comfortable before he asked gently:

“And what time will you be getting up? Surely you have work tomorrow.”

Grell groaned and waved her hand dismissively, patting the mortician’s chest lightly.

“Can’t you just steal me for a day? If you told them I was here at your behest they wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

Undertaker chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of Grell’s head, taking in her scent while she indulged in his.

“Of course, though tomorrow is my scheduled cleaning day. You wouldn’t mind helping me out with all that, now would you?”

Grell let out a low whine before realizing that the mortician was teasing her, having brought up what she’d remarked upon previously. She let out a sigh as she nuzzled into Undertaker’s chest, answering finally:

“You got me. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Undertaker smiled and let out a gentle laugh, trying not to jostle the other too much as he noticed she was quickly falling asleep. He kept his arms wrapped around her as he nuzzled into her soft red tresses, responding affectionately before she could completely doze off:

“Having you with me is enough. I’ll be looking forward to our restful day together.”


End file.
